Draw Down by Cardinal Robbins
by Cardinal Robbins
Summary: Members of the SVU squad are under attack. Will they make it out alive? SVU AU


Draw Down

By Cardinal Robbins

It was hot, unbearably hot, and John Munch's breath came to him in short gasps as he huddled behind cover. Shots erupted all around him, fired from how many different directions he didn't know. His main focus was to stay alive, to ensure he would not be hit and go down. In this circumstance, "officer down" was completely unacceptable. He silently prayed his body armor would protect him.

He reloaded and surveyed his options. He and the rest of Manhattan's Special Victims Unit were all in the same situation – pinned. He saw his captain and waved him in the direction of cover. "Cap, go, go, go – now!" he yelled, hoping he could be heard above the fire and general chaos. Munch covered his captain with a volley of shots, each of which hit their mark easily. One of his expert shots created a casualty. He tasted dust in his mouth. God, it was so hot.

Stabler had Benson's back, but she was against something considerably more open than anyone wanted to see. Elliot pulled off several shots with his semi-automatic and she bolted, sliding to cover close enough to talk to him. "Good work, Liv," he said with a grunt. He had eyes like a hawk's. He scanned the area to discern who was hit and who was not, as well as how much more enemy fire they could expect.

"Fin!" Sarah Zelman yelled as he rolled and slid against her. "I need ammo, man, I'm almost out," she said desperately. He shared what he had, just in time for her to take someone out. "One down, dead," she stated calmly, surveying the area through the sight of her gun.

"Nice shootin' – good job," he said curtly, his gun leveled. "Now we need to take the rest of these mothers out, before we all end up dead ourselves."

Munch squeezed off a shot and felt sweat trickle down his back. He wished he had some Gatorade, because fluid loss was fast becoming an issue. The firefight was taking longer than planned and no one was going down easily. His gloved finger pulled off another shot and he heard a cry of, "I'm hit!" He felt relieved and triumphant because it wasn't one of his people.

Cragen gestured to Tutuola and Zelman, who each nodded and made their move. Sarah dived as Fin took another shooter down. "He's done for," he said, sure no one could hear him. He bolted and ran for cover near Zelman, while Don stayed where he was for the moment.

Benson saw a black-clad figure run across in front of her and she sent a shot careening. It found its mark and the figure hit the ground, almost directly in front of her. She felt Elliot's hand on her shoulder, a firm squeeze his encouragement. "We'll take them all down yet," he said, breathing heavily.

The firefight was winding down, its participants either dead, out of ammo, completely spent, or all of the above. Cragen edged out of his hiding place and looked from side to side. "We're clear!" he yelled. "Weapons down, everyone."

"Time is called," a voice said evenly over the loudspeaker. "The best department team time goes to Manhattan SVU, with ten minutes and forty-three seconds to clear the field. Next up will be the two-person team competition, but first we'll have a short intermission."

Munch and the others pulled off their masks and heaved a sigh of relief in the eighty-eight degree weather, with high humidity making the day almost miserable in some respects – but immensely satisfying in other ways.

Before he knew it, Zelman was at his side; she handed him a cold Gatorade before opening her own. "Good shooing, John," she said excitedly. "Great work, everyone!"

"Thanks," Elliot said, as he gave Olivia a victory hug, "I'd forgotten how much fun it could be – taking people out." Stabler's grin was as wicked as the gleam in his blue eyes.

"We did this almost every other weekend, when I worked for the FBI," Sarah said. "I used to hide behind something large, or in a structure, and shoot from there."

"You also over-pumped your gun," John said, laughing. "You couldn't get away with that this time, because pressures were regulated by the judges."

"Busted – but we made it," she said, popping him with a paintball. "Gotcha!"

He looked down at the bright pink splotch on his black paintball outfit, glad she didn't get paint on his body armor. The minute her back was turned, he nailed her with a shot to the backside, then grinned as she yelped. She'd have a bruise, but later he'd kiss it and make it better.

As they all made their way through the field exit, they were exhausted yet exuberant. They shook hands with their opponents, all of whom were uninjured save for a few well-earned bumps and paintball bruises. Handshakes and congratulations were the order of the day.

When they crowded on to the podium, they knew they had finally made it. They had beaten back Queens SVU in the annual NYPD paintball tournament, and had the team trophy to prove it.

Don Cragen couldn't have been prouder of his squad. They'd swept the arena and drawn down on one of the best paintball teams in the city. Sweetest of all, they had won.


End file.
